


Silence

by Adothan



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 06:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adothan/pseuds/Adothan
Summary: Statement of Sarah Walsh, regarding her silence.





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bittercape (bittercape)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittercape/gifts).

_Statement of Sarah Walsh, regarding her silence._

_Statement begins:_

It’s almost nice to get to talk about what happened to me? I mean, I was sort of expecting it to end up coming from someone else, but - I almost think there’s something different about this place, like it’s drawing the story out of me. I don’t know. 

Maybe no one will ever read this. What do I know. 

I’m already rambling.

Sorry.

I’ve never been much good at conversation. Dad always used to tell me that it was about faking it, about pretending to be an extrovert. That’s what he does, anyway. I think he’s wrong though. There’s more to it than that. 

I was never anxious around people - or at least, not about people. Not like dad said he was. I think I was scared that I wouldn’t have anything to say, or anything worth saying. 

Ironically, the fear used to paralyse me and I’d end up loitering on the edges of conversations without adding anything.

It’s a miracle I ever made any friends.

I was genuinely surprised when I made friends at uni. Dad said he wasn’t surprised, that he always knew I had it in me - but then again, he seemed too proud of my tiny achievement to have had total faith in me. 

It took a good couple of months to work up to actually talking to people but I got there, and somehow I managed fall in with people who were just as weird and anxious as I was. And as queer as I am, too. 

It was the first time I’d met people who understood those parts of me, and I mean like - I’d never had people who could finish my sentences before. People joke about the mortifying ordeal of being known but - 

It’s kind of nice, being known. For the first time.

It was, anyway. 

Spend enough time with someone - sometimes people can know you too well. 

That’s where... it started, I think. Knowing each other too well. 

We were talking about something stupid. I barley remember what it was now. Something to do with our up and coming poetry essays, probably. We were all stressed, there wasn’t much else being talked about. 

I opened my mouth to say something insane, only to find myself and Kelsey speaking the same words at exactly the same moment.

That wasn’t unusual. As I’ve said, we all knew each other well enough to finish each other’s sentences.

What was unusual was that it didn’t stop. Every time I tried to say something, I found myself speaking in chorus with someone else in my study group. 

Eventually someone joked - ‘what are you, psychic?’- and we laughed. But it wasn’t like reading someone’s mind at all. It was more like... like everyone else was reading my mind. Like they were all plucking the ideas out of my head as I thought of them. Thinking they’d thought of them themselves. 

I told myself it was some kind of fluke. Obviously. Some weird glitch in the matrix. So I went home, thought about calling dad - and didn’t - and I went to bed. I actually slept pretty well, that night. I was so certain it would all be fixed by the time I got up for class.

It got worse. _ Obviously. _

It was like one of those awful edits of songs where the vocals slowly get more and more out of time with the instrumental track until you just can’t listen anymore. 

They started plucking the ideas out of my mind before I could even open my mouth. 

My friends were all speaking in this... perfect symphony, and I just couldn’t keep up. I didn’t have anything to say that they hadn’t already uttered. 

I thought about continuing to hang around people, even without anything to say but... I couldn’t stand the idea of hanging silently on the edges of their conversation. I shut up, shut myself in my room. Worked to take my mind off of everything. 

I got kicked out of uni for plagiarism. Apparently someone turned in an essay identical to mine, just five minutes before me. I tried to meet with my tutor and explain what was happening, but she just kept talking over me. I couldn’t get a word in edge ways.

There wasn’t anything left to do, so I did the last thing I could think of. The only thing that came to mind. I got the next train to London and I came here, to make my statement. 

And I made my statement. I still am, aren’t I? 

I didn’t even have to buy a train ticket. I don’t think any one at the station even looked at me. The receptionist here wouldn’t look at me either - I had to snatch this tape recorder off of her desk. 

I don’t want to stop talking. Surely my story is still happening - I must still have things to say. It’s a miracle no one has spoken over me yet.

Or it’s something about this place, about my story. 

Sorry, I really am rambling now. Dragging this out.

I haven’t gone home yet. I miss dad - I want to talk to him. He’d know what to say. I don’t want to get there and find that I can’t - 

_Statement Ends._


End file.
